


When I'm with you

by PeterParkers7EvilExes (antimone_ii)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, First Time Together, M/M, Peter is 19 years old, femme!Peter, trans!peter, tw: some offscreen transphobia happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-08-30 01:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antimone_ii/pseuds/PeterParkers7EvilExes
Summary: Peter starts coming over to the lab in his skirts, pretty soft fabrics that twirl around his knees and show off the shapely lines of his muscled thighs. Immediately, Tony realizes he’s in over his head.





	When I'm with you

**Author's Note:**

> **TW:** Some offscreen transphobia happens, and there is a little discussion of said offscreen transphobia.  
> Peter is 19 in this fictional work.  
> 

At first, Peter would come around the lab wearing his usual oversized sweaters and khakis cuffed up three times because the legs were too long. Tony always figured it was to hide the shape of his body and he never asked - it felt too intrusive. Peter's sort of adorable with his sweater sleeves pooled down past his wrists, and while it's none of Tony's business, he prefers this - the oversized clothes and ill-fitting pants - to the glimpses he gets of Peter's naked flushed skin when he's pulling on the suit for whatever adjustments they're working on. He prefers pretending that he isn’t hopelessly attracted to his young mentee, pretending he doesn’t see the way Peter’s eyes catch his too.

But as with all things involving Peter, stubborn boy that he is, he draws Tony in bit by bit, until it’s too late and he finds that Peter’s got him wrapped around his little finger.

It all starts when they're eating dinner one night - takeout hastily ordered to the lab when they realized it was past midnight and neither of them had eaten all day - and glancing across the table, Tony sees what's on Peter's phone. He's browsing through catalogues of skirts. Nothing scandalous, just pretty little designs cut mid-thigh on beaming models in colorful argyles and florals. For a moment he's confused. His first thought is that Peter's shopping for a friend or a partner, but no - he's got a boyfriend now (Derek, or was it Daryl? Darren?), a beefy looking macho guy, and Tony somehow can't picture his friend MJ willingly wearing one of those colorful numbers.

Peter looks up at that moment meeting his eyes, and Tony's face flushes with humiliation. Unable to pretend like they both don't know what he saw, he tries to give Peter an out. “Birthday present for May?”

Peter turns his phone over, his own face going pink. “Oh, um, no.” He pauses, and for a horrible moment Tony thinks they're going to have to sit with this uncomfortable silence, knowing that he's a nosy old creep who's clearly invaded his mentee's privacy - but to his surprise Peter exhales and continues. “It's actually for me.” His shoulders hunch in on himself minutely like he's preparing for Tony to snap at him or laugh at his expense. When that doesn't happen, Peter relaxes a bit. “I miss girly things sometimes,” he says with a shrug. “I know it's weird, and it's not a sex thing, or me ‘regretting’ being trans or whatever--”

“You don't have to explain anything to me, Pete,” Tony cuts in gently. “Plenty of guys wear skirts and dresses.”

Peter looks up at him, quiet and still, and for a second it looks like he's going to cry. “Thanks for saying that, Mr. Stark,” he says sincerely.

Tony clears his throat and pokes at his pad thai. “Course,” he says gruffly. “Any decent person would say it.”

Suddenly, Peter thrusts his phone into Tony's face. “Help me pick then!” He says excitedly, and it nearly breaks Tony's heart, that delighted open smile on Peter's face. He clambers over the lab table and scoots Tony over on the bench, practically sitting on top of him. “This one,” he swipes between tabs, blissfully unaware of how Tony's gripping his chopsticks so hard they creak, “or this one,” he can feel Peter's thigh burning hot against his, “or this one?” It takes everything in Tony to refrain from wrapping an arm around Peter's waist and pulling him into his side. “Well?”

Tony swipes back to the second one. “This, definitely,” he says, exhaling quietly in relief when Peter beams and pulls back.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark!” Peter says brightly. “Um, this might be too much to ask, but could I maybe wear them here? It’s just--”

“Yeah, of course Pete,” Tony says, practically shoving him off the bench and back over to his side of the table. “Just make sure you're wearing a lab coat if you’re working with chemicals, right?”

Peter nods happily. “Thank you so much, it's just, I feel weird wearing them in the dorm and it's not like Ned wouldn't get it, but he wouldn't _get_ it get it, you know--”

“Kid, I said you don't gotta explain yourself to me,” Tony repeats, rolling his eyes. Peter laughs, bright and joyful, and Tony fixedly ignores the way his heart kicks up a notch in response.

* * *

  
So after that, it becomes a bit of a thing. Peter starts coming over to the lab in his skirts, pretty soft fabrics that twirl around his knees and show off the shapely lines of his muscled thighs. Immediately, Tony realizes he’s in over his head.

When he walks into the lab one day to see Peter bent innocently over his worktable, a velvet maroon skirt stretched up over his smooth thighs, Tony has to immediately turn back out of the lab. As he jerks himself off quick and shameful in the bathroom, he pictures himself rutting into the backs of Peter’s thighs, grinding into his pert ass and smearing his cock over that soft pretty velvet -- and he comes with a muffled groan, grimacing as guilt churns angrily in his gut.

He returns to the lab afterwards and throws a lab coat at Peter. “I’m welding stuff today,” he says as way of explanation. “Safety first.” Dum-E makes a whirring noise of confusion from the corner, and he shoots the bot a warning look. He’ll _find_ something to weld, goddammit.

To his great dismay though, Tony quickly finds that he’s no less attracted to his mentee in lab coats. In fact, dressed in his pretty skirts under an open lab coat, Peter looks like he’s walked off the set of some cheesy science-themed porno. And it doesn’t help that Tony’s always had a thing for clever people in lab coats. But Peter isn’t just a witty lab tech who’s caught his eye.

He’s so much more than that - he’s practically Tony’s kid. He _is_ a kid, he tells himself firmly. ( _He’s nineteen_ , a hopeful little voice in the back of his mind counters. He can make his own decisions - isn’t that what Peter’s proved time and time again?) Regardless, he has a boyfriend, Tony thinks bitterly. So he grits his teeth and smothers the persistent desire in his chest and wills it to die.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says as they’re hunkered over his Spidey suit one afternoon, “how d’you know when you can start to open up to someone you’re dating?”

Tony looks up from his code, watching as Peter messes with his mask lenses, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Open up? You mean talking about feelings?”

Peter hesitates. “Not… exactly? I mean, tell them things about yourself that they won’t-- uh, might not react well to?”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Tony sighs. “Depends on the relationship, kid. Is this… Is this a safety thing?”

Shaking his head quickly, Peter looks up, chewing at his bottom lip. “No, no. I guess I was thinking about telling Darien about me wearing skirts, see if I could start doing that a little more at home around him.”

An irrational, visceral outrage clamps down around his ribs hearing Peter refer to Darien and ‘home’ in the same sentence. “Yeah?” He says lightly. “If you think he’d be accepting, I think that’s a good idea.”

“That’s the thing,” Peter says slowly. “Like, with you Mr. Stark, I didn’t ever doubt that you’d still accept me. Not, like, in my gut, you know?” He flushes an attractive pink and continues on determinedly. “I know I’m safe with you. So I wasn’t scared to tell you.” He carefully lowers his eyes back down to his mask. “But, um, I guess I’m not one hundred percent sure with Darien yet.”

The tightness around his ribs loosens a fraction and Tony feels something like a smug possessiveness coiling warm in his chest. _Get a grip old man_ , he thinks wildly. To Peter, he says, “It’s your choice to tell him, Pete. But if he isn’t accepting, then he’s a waste of your time and frankly, a waste of oxygen.”

Peter smiles shyly down at his hands and nods. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. That helps.”

* * *

  
So Tony is partially dismayed, a tiny bit guiltily pleased, and a _lot_ pissed off when it turns out that Darien is indeed a waste of oxygen.

He hears FRIDAY announce that Peter’s arrived at the tower at his usual time right after class, but when the kid doesn’t appear in the lab, he lifts his head. “FRI? Didn’t you say Pete got here a while ago?”

“ _Yes, Peter’s upstairs in the movie room. I believe he wants to be alone, boss_.”

Tony frowns, setting his tablet down. “Did he say that?”

“ _Not explicitly, but he requested I lock the door_.”

“Shit.” Tony stands up immediately, sprinting up the stairs to the little movie theater.

He knocks on the door. “Pete?” He doesn’t hear anything in response, but FRIDAY unlocks it for him and he steps inside. It’s completely dark except for a faint glow from the sleeping projector at the back of the room. As his eyes adjust, he fumbles through the dark and finds Peter curled up into himself in the back row of the theater-style loveseats, staring vacantly ahead at the black screen. “Peter?”

He hears a wet sniff. “Hi Mr. Stark,” Peter says in a thick voice.

“Can I sit here?” Tony asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

Tony reaches between them and gently puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. He’s surprised when the boy throws himself across the loveseat, wrapping his arms tight around Tony’s neck. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says, instinctively winding an arm around Peter’s middle and petting his hair. “You’re alright, Pete, you’re okay.”

They sit like that for a long while, Peter clinging to him and breathing in slow, shallow breaths. He sounds like he’s been crying, and the thought of Peter hiding himself up here in the dark breaks Tony’s heart. He squeezes Peter close to him, murmuring vague words of assurance and petting his hair.

Eventually Peter’s breathing evens out until he’s sagged bonelessly onto Tony, his face tucked into his neck. “‘m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he says at last, his voice muffled against Tony’s throat.

Tony rubs his hand over Peter’s spine and absently kisses the top of his head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Peter sighs, detaching himself from Tony so he can wipe at his face. Tony is loathe to let go though and he keeps an arm around his waist, drawing Peter back into a hug. “You were right,” he says quietly. “I broke up with Darien.” Tony tightens his hold around Peter. “I told him ‘bout how I wear skirts,” he plucks sadly at the hem of the little flared number he’s wearing today, “and he said if-- if he wanted to date a g- girl, he would’ve done that from the start.”

Tony’s vision goes red with rage, but he reins it in for Peter’s sake. “He’s trash,” he says flatly. “Wearing skirts doesn’t make _anyone_ a girl and if he thinks that, I’m glad you cut him out of your life.” He tucks Peter’s head back under his chin. “You deserve better than that piece of shit, Peter.”

With a shaky breath, Peter nods his head against Tony’s chest. “Thanks for saying that, Mr. Stark,” he says quietly. “I guess I was just surprised. He was mostly accepting when I told him I’m trans, so I didn’t think this would be such a big deal.”

“Hold on, mostly accepting?” Tony stills, threading his fingers through Peter’s hair and looking him in the eye. “What d’you mean, _mostly_ accepting?”

Peter blinks up at him. “I mean, he was okay with it,” he shrugs. “Like, he didn’t like talking about it and would...” He pauses, frowning under Tony’s murderous eyes. “Is… that not normal?”

Tony can hear his blood roaring in his ears. “Peter, if you’d let me, I’d kill the punk,” he says with a calmness he doesn’t feel. “But you wouldn’t, so I won’t,” he adds quickly, and Peter looks a little less worried. “And that’s because you’re a _good person_ , Peter. You-- You deserve someone who loves you and doesn’t say stupid ignorant shit to you, Jesus Christ, Pete, you deserve the world.”

For the first time today, he sees Peter smile at him, just a little bit. “You’re just tryin’ to cheer me up, Mr. Stark,” he accuses, although he leans back into Tony’s chest, letting him hold him again.

“‘Course I am,” Tony scoffs. “I’d do anything for you Pete. I love you.” The words slip out without him meaning to. It’s not like Tony’s never said it to him before, but those times the context was always clear - this time, this sounds like a confessional.

Peter pulls back, blinking up at Tony with wide brown eyes. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony holds his gaze, and every possible answer he could say for damage control flits through his head: ‘ _What’s up, kiddo?_ ’, ‘ _You’re like a son to me._ ’ But they all sound canned and artificial in Tony’s head, and he can’t bear to lie like that to Peter. Not with that look in his eyes, he realizes, desperate and longing all at once. So what Tony says at last is, “I mean it. I’d give the world for you, Peter.”

And Peter surges into him, throws his arms around Tony’s neck and presses their lips together.

It’s clumsy and uncoordinated, fumbling as they are in the dark, but Tony is quick to reciprocate. He holds onto Peter’s waist and bites and sucks at his lower lip until the boy’s crawling into his lap. “Please Mr. Stark,” Peter begs him.

At those words, the barely latent desire Tony's been harboring bursts free all at once. He can't keep his hands off of Peter, wants to touch every inch of him before he comes to his senses, hates that Peter's ever been led to believe he deserves anything less than the world. “I mean it Pete, I love you. _Fuck_ , just wanna take care of you,” he murmurs against his lips as he tangles his fingers in Peter's hair, dragging his head back so he can kiss and bite at his throat.

The sounds Peter's making are beautiful, little whimpers and desperate gasps for breath as he digs his fingers into Tony's shoulders, his hips twitching and grinding down over the shape of Tony's cock trapped under his pants.

Unable to resist with this treat in his lap, Tony slides a hand up Peter's soft skirt, rubbing slow and teasing up his inner thigh. Peter grinds himself down hard against his cock, and he audibly gasps when Tony's fingers press hard and unrelenting against the apex of his thighs.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” Tony croaks, rubbing his thumb in slow little circles over damp fabric, sinfully soft and textured under his skin. “FRI, turn the lights on dim.” He pushes Peter's skirt up his long thighs, he has to see for himself -- and sure enough, the low lighting reveals a delicate G-string in pastel pink lace, already wet with Peter's arousal. “Is this for me, angel?” Tony growls as he presses his palm against the inside of Peter's thigh, then slides his thumb underneath the lace so he can feel for himself.

“It's-- _Oh_ , it's ‘cause, ah, underwear lines,” Peter says breathlessly. Tony spares a moment to give Peter a wry look, admiring how his mouth hangs open absently, cheeks flushed with lust. Catching Tony's eye, Peter bites his lip bashfully. “Um. Yeah, 's for you Mr. Stark,” he says, batting his eyelashes with an exaggerated coyness.

Tony laughs and catches Peter in another kiss, slower and sweeter this time as he realizes with a sense of amazement that Peter really, truly wants him back. He carefully rolls his hips up, letting Peter feel how hard he is under his ass. To his surprise, Peter wraps his fingers around Tony's hand and guides him, nodding and moaning into his mouth when Tony takes the hint and pushes Peter open, nudging a finger into that wet heat.

He curls his finger slow, stroking Peter's velvet soft walls until he finds the spot that makes his knees clench tight around his waist and cry out in surprise. Rocking his hips up against Peter's ass lazily, Tony adds another finger, marveling at how easy he slips inside.

“Mr. Stark, please,” Peter whimpers into his chest. He reaches between them and pulls Tony’s cock out of his jeans, moaning when he gets him in hand. “C’mon Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna wait.”

Tony exhales sharply, his cock twitching as Peter traces his fingers over the fat head of him. “Yeah baby boy, where'd you want me?” he asks, pressing his fingers in to the knuckle just to feel Peter tighten around him.

“Right here.” Peter scoots himself forward, rubbing Tony’s leaking head against his own little cock, right where Tony’s fingers disappear inside him. “Mr. Stark, please?” And he really doesn’t have to beg so much but Tony will be damned if he’s going to stop those sweet words. As he arranges them, reluctantly withdrawing his fingers so he can grasp Peter by the hips, Peter’s still babbling. “Wanna, um, wanna do it this way with you. I know whatever kinda sex we do doesn’t make me, y’know, less of a man or anything but,” Tony indulges himself, rubbing his cockhead over the soft lace of Peter’s underwear before he pulls it aside, slotting himself against where he’s dripping wet. “Um, I never felt like I could do this with Darien so I’m--” At hearing him say his ex’s name, Tony growls and sits Peter onto his cock down to the hilt and his babbling trails off, his lips still parted mid-sentence.

Tony tilts his chin down and kisses him tenderly. “Peter, what have I been saying? You never have to explain yourself to me.”

Peter nods dumbly, his breathing gone shallow as he blinks mutely at Tony. He takes this moment to admire Peter, his soft brown hair mussed and falling into his eyes, looking blissed out on his cock. His skirt is still hiked up around his splayed legs, showing off those gorgeous strong legs even as the fabric just covers where Tony’s buried deep inside his cunt. Tony lets himself fantasize for a moment about fucking Peter just like this on movie night, sitting him on his lap with his skirt spread prettily over his thighs, impaling him right there in front of everybody with none the wiser. “I’m gonna take care of you baby,” he swears, kissing Peter’s pink lips again. “Look at you. Fucking perfect for me, aren’t you? Gonna make you feel good Pete, take care of you like you deserve.”

He starts to gently roll his hips, grinding his cock into Peter as he holds him steady in place. Peter regains his breathing and sets his hands on Tony’s chest, moving in sync with him and moaning quietly. “What I was _trying_ to say,” he huffs, “is when I’m with you, it’s like a switch is flipped.” His hips stutter as Tony bucks up into him, his hand clamping tight around the back of Tony’s neck. “Wish I’d known being with someone could feel this good,” he says, sounding almost teary.

That makes Tony _ache_. He wraps his arms around Peter, holding him close and still as he grinds into him in shallower, faster motions, groaning when he feels Peter’s walls tightening around him as he finds his rhythm. “Fuck, Pete, I’ll take care of you as long as you’ll let me, promise.” Peter lets out a little whimper at those words. “Perfect for me, aren’t you baby? My sweet boy, _fuck_ , wish you could see how gorgeous you look on my cock.”

Peter’s head lolls back and he whines, knees digging into Tony’s sides as he rides him harder. Tony reaches a hand underneath the skirt and he rubs his thumb in little circles over Peter's cock.

With each pump of Tony's cock in him Peter moans, sweet and unbidden, little ‘ _ah, ah, ah_ ’s falling from his lips. “'m gonna come Mr. Stark, please,” he whimpers, his eyes blown wide with need.

Tony curses as he feels Peter’s cunt dripping slick down his cock, his tight walls squeezing and massaging around him. “Yeah, go on angel, let yourself feel good, I've got you.”

Peter buries his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, moaning “Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark,” and shuddering hard as he comes, his whole body tensing tight.

“Perfect, Pete, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Tony tells him as Peter rocks his hips needily, riding out his orgasm. Tony doesn’t stand a chance. He drives his cock hard into Peter and grunts as his own climax crashes over him, clutching Peter tight around his waist as he spills deep inside him.

He sags into the loveseat, rubbing a hand posessively over the swell of Peter’s ass and keeping him trapped on his cock, unwilling to let him go just yet. Peter’s in no hurry to leave either - he nuzzles into Tony’s neck and kisses his stubble, still moaning his name as he grinds his hips in slow, lazy circles. Tony shudders as he feels Peter’s cunt tightening around him in the aftershocks of his orgasm, his own come dripping down his softening cock.

They lay there until their breathing evens out together, and Tony looks down at the profile of Peter’s face resting on his chest, feeling a quiet euphoria in his ribs settle at the sight.

He pets down Peter’s spine and straightens out his pretty skirt, making sure it doesn’t get too sticky with how he’s laid on top of him. Tony’s started to think Peter’s dozed off when he picks his head up and says quietly, “I’m really happy, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiles and tilts Peter’s chin up to kiss his soft lips. “That’s all I ever wanted, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://peterparkers7evilexes.tumblr.com/).


End file.
